Christian at the top

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***Christian's POV***

"How many times have I told you fucking imbeciles? No hunting within the town. It's not god damned rocket science you brainless buffoons." Anthony bellows his endearments throughout our home. "If people start disappearing, the wrath of the Council will fall on my head."

Anthony walks through, straightening the bookshelves and picking up dirty dishes off of the tables.

I walk behind my creator, helping to clean behind our clan.

Seriously, they are a bunch of swine.

"Dear Christian, why can't they all be like you?" Anthony turns and cups my face gently. He stares at me nostalgically.

Tony created me for sheer experimentation 157 years ago. Stonewall Jackson was busy invading the Shenandoah Valley, no one thought to count the missing soldiers.

I was nineteen and fighting in The Civil War. My life was figuratively over before it even began.

Stolen from my camp in the middle of the night, I awoke to a world I wasn't aware existed.

Truthfully, he probably saved my life. I was bound to succumb to dysentery if a bullet didn't find its way through my chest.

"Different times, Tony." I wistfully explain. The new breed of newborns is not the quality of us older generations.

"Christian, tell me what I'm doing wrong." Tony whines out his words as he grabs a glass of brandy from the liquor cabinet.

Vampires are able to consume everything a human would. We just prefer blood. Any type will do really, human blood is always preferred.

I, myself, refuse to drink of unwilling humans. Therefore, I feed off of tributes. They trade their life source for a promise of eventually becoming immortal.

Stupid humans.

Tony always turns them, when their begging becomes too much to ignore. However, I firmly believe they are wasting their precious mortality in search for something that has many more cons than pros.

Not that I'm complaining.

"Tony, it's not you. It's the way these children were brought up. You keep turning brats and then act surprised when they ignore your authority. It's just the world we live in." I grab a glass and pour myself a bit of the aromatic liquor.

"Ah, I miss the days of well behaved and respectful subjects." Tony sighs as he finishes off his drink.

Patting my shoulder as he stands, Tony leans down and places a kiss at the crown of my head.

"I'm so glad I have you, Christian. Any one would be." Tony walks away leaving me with words I no longer believe.

Vampires have a soulmate, or so I am told. A perfect creation walks around, obtuse to their other half, until they finally meet. A beloved is the human version of a soulmate. We can have beloveds of any sex, nationality or breed.

After 157 years, I have given up on the notion. Once upon a time ago, I was not so jaded. Unfortunately, life or something like it, happens. You find yourself wondering around aimlessly.

That's where I am. Nowhere.

I finish my own drink before standing and rinsing out the glass. I load the dishwasher, cleaning up behind the newborns.

Maybe that is my calling, a maid. I seem to do it all too well these days.

I turn the light off in the kitchen, not that I need light, I have excellent vision. We just like the ambiance of light, if I'm being honest. Which, I am always honest.

My feet carry me through the house. I take in our luxurious mansion. The walls are all glass. It's a beautiful structure, an architectural masterpiece.

Chrome adorns the fixtures, tall cathedral ceilings hold the weight of crystal chandeliers. The Ozark or Saint Francis National Forest, surrounds our home. Wildlife scampers from dusk til dawn. Every noise is apparent with our enhanced hearing.

Francis River cuts across the forest, it's water rushing over the river beds in soft pelts like rain.

The home is exquisite. I have nothing negative to speak of.

I close the door gently as soon as I exit the house. I punch in the security code before walking towards my car.

I own a variety of vehicles. That's the perks of living for over a century and a half. You find yourself in ample supply of time which converts into money when you are willing to work.

That is where I am headed, work.

I love my job.

I am a doctor at the neighboring town's hospital. I spend my days healing the sick, mending the broken and researching ways to cure the incurable.

Slipping into the seats of my Aston Martin Vanquish, I turn on the defroster. It gets cold during the winter, not for me. But, the windshield feels the need to ice over.

I push the start button while relaxing into the comfortable leather seats. I crank up the stereo to hum along to my favorite boy band singer. Who doesn't love One Direction? Well specifically Zayn Malik.

His solo career is clearly one of the more successful of the band that once sang songs like What Makes You Beautiful.

Let Me blares through the speakers.

Such a beautiful song. It would be nice to have someone to persuade into letting me love them.

I pull out from the drive way, turning my car onto the quiet streets of our serene town.

Saint Francis is a densely populated town of less than 400. At least that's what the consensus reads, if you count us supernatural species you would see the numbers increase significantly.

I travel over an hour to Cary Medical Center. It's worth it.

We have a rural hospital in town, but it beds approximately 90 people and I find that they lack in major medical technology. I feel my abilities are best harvested in the bigger facility.

I navigate down the quiet roads. It is still dark. I leave earlier than most. Having such a lengthy commute to work affords me endless time to mull over things of both significance and inferiority.

My mind leads me to various subjects quickly, much like someone who suffers from ADHD. However, I do not see it as a inconvenience considering I am more than capable of processing the abundance of information quickly and thoroughly.

You may think that is because I am so damn intelligent. Far from the facts, I have had 157 years to learn the ins and outs of dissecting details and storing them away into tiny memory files for future use.

Honestly, some information is so absolutely irrelevant that I will never need or want for it. That doesn't change the fact that it is there. Just in case.

I turn down the road to my prospective parking lot. Unfortunately, this city is much larger than my current residence and parking can be a nightmare. Also, I am a bit partial to this particular car so I do my best to keep the thing looking immaculate and free from the troublesome evidence of irresponsible drivers.

It truly irks me to know that others care nothing for the hard work it takes for most to afford such a thing as a vehicle. They slam their doors open, leaving small scratches and tiny dents. To some they may never care for the tiny imperfections on the car they drive. For me, I rather enjoy perfection in whatever form I can come into contact with it.

I exit my precious Vanquish and close the door carefully. I lock her securely and start my walk to the private elevators reserved for staff of higher caliber. Those are not my adjectives for my position in the hospital. Those are words used by board members to make those of us who have spent a little extra time and money to carry the brawn of responsibility financially in our field feel more valued.

Everyone knows the real heroes at any hospital are the sacrificial nurses. Their long hours are grueling and they have the unwanted task of informing the patients of the most peril information. I do try so very hard not to transfer those duties to the women and men who assist me though.

They have lives and families outside of these walls. I like them to go home with a light heart and a heavy pocket. They are deserving and are so frequently over looked when the time comes to hand down commendations and appreciation.

Just because I carry the malpractice insurance and the responsibility for the actions of my staff does not make them below me. I am simply their benefactor. Without me they would have no job but, without them I would not be able to accomplish a single thing aside from slipping into my medical coat.

I love my nurses. That's the point.

I wave politely to the desk clerk before I walk into the break room to make myself a cup of coffee. Do I need coffee, probably not. Do I love coffee, absolutely. I indulge in the human nourishment for the pure fact that it is divine.

Thank you farmers for working your asses off to make sure that my tastes buds stand and sing a song of worship every morning.

I grab the coffee and walk swiftly down the halls to my office. The first part of my morning is always spent in slow concentration. I prefer to read over my own notes, dictating them word for word so that a computer does not give the wrong information when entrusted with the fickle task of understanding and processing verbiage based on tone and commonly used words.

The fact that I have travelled for many years to different countries and picked up a substantial vocabulary makes it difficult for modern technology to decipher my transcripts. Therefore, I do everything humanly possible to assure that the correct information ends up in the proper patient files.

I would hate for Mr. John to find out he is pregnant and for Mrs. Sidney to believe that she has a higher risk for prostate cancer due to her family history. That would not be fun to have to explain.

I sit at my desk and thumb through the physical files. I read the notes my nurses have so helpfully made and then I jot down notes of my own.

Apparently, Mr. John is at no risk for prostate cancer. He is healthier than a horse and has the bloodwork to prove it.

Mrs. Sidney will be surprised to find out that the uncomfortable pain she has been experiencing in her round ligaments is due to the fact that she is having two little ones instead of the one larger one that the ultrasound tech had informed her of.

I make a note to retrain the technician that made the first finding. They are fraternal twins and their positions suggest that there was no possible way for a well trained eye to miss the second baby in the first place.

Mr. Logan is going to be sadly disappointed. His tumor is not benign as first suspected. However, he is only in the precancerous stage and a small amount of radiation should kill the non aggressive tumor. He should be well on his way to recovery by the end of six weeks.

I sigh reading over the next file. Mrs. Bethany did not pass her drug test, again. This means she will be thrown off the donor list for a new liver. Her alcohol levels are beyond high. Her Albumin is low and Bilirubin high as well, suggesting that she is on the verge of developing Cirrhosis.

While I detest having to tell someone that they have successfully strangled their vital organ with a lack of respect, it is what it is. She has done this to herself. Falling out of multiple rehabilitation attempts, she has no one to blame but herself.

I could let my nurses handle these diagnosis but, I prefer that they are the ones drawing blood and starting IVs.

It is not that I cannot handle being around human blood. I can. It gets uncomfortable at some point. I do try to keep myself well fed. But, why tempt the snake if you know at any moment it can reach out and strike you?

I notice the red light going off above my door, signaling we do in fact have an emergency. I stand from my chair, pushing off from the desk to head towards the needy party. I grab my pager and slip my cell into my pocket.

Making my way down the hall, I follow the slew of angels that are rushing into room seven of the fast track hall. I push the door open quietly and observe the scene of panic unfolding in front of my eyes.

Not again.

I groan internally when I see the patient, one that we have had multiple encounters with, attempting to chew through the leather wrist straps that have him tied to the hospital bed. His head is frantically thrashing as his teeth sink into the straps that, by the way, have been used by multiple patients. Disgusting.

I swiftly push through the crowd of helpers and use my super human strength to subdue the patient, allowing my trustee angels to inject him with a sedative, again.

This is definitely not the first time this exact scene has played out and I know that it will not be the last.

"What drug has our frequent flyer ingested this morning?" I ask less out of curiosity and purely from annoyance.

Why must humans seek a momentary high at the cost of a life that they are borrowing from the Heavens?

"Blood tests suggest that he has a mix of Ketamine and Opioids, specifically Oxycodone, in his system." Nurse Stephanie informs me wearily.

"Please start Mr. Michael's on a detox drip. I will need his system clean when he signs forms to be admitted to inpatient rehabilitation."

Closing my eyes to rid myself of the growing anger that is building in my veins, I count to ten. This is exhausting. If you want to kill yourself, do so at home. Please don't come to my hospital and lay the burden upon my staff. They will undoubtedly take the loss extremely hard and grieve for your sorry ass.

"Mr. Michaels, I wish I could say it is nice to
see you again. However, given your state, you wouldn't believe me and I do not prefer to lie to you. Why must you come in here, doped up, giving my staff another task? You do realize we have patients who physically want to enjoy their time on earth."

"Fuck you. Let me go." Ah, Mr. Michael's. Always the gentleman.

"I prefer not to. Thank you for the offer. My staff is preparing a bag for you, they will be back in shortly to give you a drip. You will be detoxing, so enjoy that. I hope it was worth the five minutes of artificial bliss. I assure you, I will have no sympathy for your withdrawal symptoms."

"Go to hell." Mr. Michael's is so fucking charming. I hope his princess comes along and slaps the living shit out of him.

"I am in hell. Look around you. You're here, signifying that this is, in fact, Satan's domain."

"I want a new doctor." Mr. Michael spits my way but, luckily his DNA misses me as it is dry and thick and barely dribbles down his chin.

"No other doctor will treat you. Your repeated attempts to annihilate yourself without any concern for your well being has turned most of them away. On that note, this will be the last time I save your sorry ass. Next time, either go to a new hospital or finish the fucking job. Now, I have to call your daughter to let her know that you have once again disappointed her. I hope you're happy."

"When I get out of here, I am going to kill you." Mr. Michael's gives me his usual threat.

"Yes, as you have said before. I will be waiting."

I kick the door softly on my way out. If I used my full force, the door would dislodge from the frame and land on my patient.

Maybe I should kick the door again.